


lost dreams of loving each other

by angel_and_desdemona



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Boys Kissing, Ghosts, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_and_desdemona/pseuds/angel_and_desdemona
Summary: “I’ll be honest, I’m, uh...” Klaus's voice gets all soft and low, like he’s about to tell Ben some big secret, because, well, he sort of is. “I'm kind of wondering if you’d slap me in the face again if I kissed you right now.”
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 13
Kudos: 126





	lost dreams of loving each other

_“Are we the toys of destiny_ _  
__Hover and burst in the morning  
_ _Remember the divine moments  
_ _And now we're all alone  
_ _Lost dreams of loving each other  
_ _The times we’d done nothing  
_ _We have a whole life left to cry  
_ _And now we're all alone_ _  
__Protect me from what I want”_

\- ‘Protege-moi’ by Placebo (translated)

// 

“This has got to be the weirdest, longest, most pointless game of patty-cake of all time," Ben declares, and it's a statement as strange as it is true.

It’s been over an hour of it now, long enough that they’ve all but forgotten whose idea it even was originally, but all it’s helped them realize is that their ability to touch is dictated by no one but the cruel and uncaring universe itself, and there’s nothing they can do to convince it to bend in their direction. 

“If not of all time, then at least by two grown-ass adult men,” Klaus agrees, leaning backwards into the rays of sunlight filtering in between the cracked and broken blinds on the window. Letting out a soft grunt of exertion, he stretches to reach the pack of cigarettes tucked between his mattress and the bedframe, his too-small t-shirt riding up to expose the pale planes of his lower stomach. God, he still hides his cigarettes in the same place he always used to when they were kids; Ben wonders just how long that particular pack has been hidden in Klaus’s childhood bedroom, just waiting for Klaus to come back for it.

Watching Klaus’s eyes light up greedily as he flips the pack open, that old, deep-set urge to tell him off for smoking itches at Ben’s temples, but he bites it back. Nicotine has never seemed to affect Klaus’s powers, not in any meaningful way, and besides, nicotine withdrawals make Klaus so _mean;_ Ben doesn’t need to deal with that when he’s already facing the potential end of the world.

“Well,” Klaus clarifies, tucking one long, thin cigarette between his lips and then closing the pack, tucking it back into his old hiding spot. “One adult man and one dead teenager, technically speaking.”

“Whoa, hey, too soon!” Ben cries, but he can’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “We get it, you're alive, you can stop bragging.”  
  
“Oh, shush, you. Wait ‘til I’m ninety or so, and you’ll be laughing your young, pert, ghostly ass off, grateful as all fuck that you never lived long enough to see your ballsack drooping down at your goddamn knees.” 

“I mean, hey, if what Five says is true, you’re not gonna live anywhere _near_ that long.”

“Jeez, Benji, now I _really_ need this smoke. Shit, where’s my fuckin’ lighter?” Unlit cigarette still clinging to the slight dampness of his lips, Klaus glances around as he pats himself down. His eyes light up, pointing out the bright pink Zippo sitting just behind Ben, “Oh, shit, can you pass me...?”

“Y’know, much as I’d love to…”

“...caught myself as soon as I said it, yup, never mind, I got it,” Klaus laughs, then leans forward, planting a hand on the ground for stability.

Or, well, he's aiming for the ground; his hand actually lands right on top of Ben’s, which wouldn’t usually even be something that either of them would notice or register - Klaus phases through Ben’s form all the time, as does almost everyone.

Only this time, the touch actually _connects,_ and Ben feels the warmth and weight of it, feels himself gaining a fully solid form again, starting from the back of his hand and spreading out through him until he’s sitting there, fully corporeal, visible to anyone who might walk in, for the first time in almost twenty years. 

Klaus’s cigarette falls to the ground between them, unlit and unimportant.

“I forgot how _warm_ you are,” Ben tells him, because one of them has to say something, or this awkward moment might actually go on forever, but then Klaus ducks his head, avoiding eye contact, and Ben feels like he’s said the exact wrong thing. Face heating up, Ben stammers, “I-I’m sorry, uh, sorry if that was weird, I just...it’s been a long time since I felt _anything_ , but especially anything warm, it’s… uh, it’s really nice, actually.”

“No, no, it’s not weird, it’s just… surprising. That’s not exactly a commonly-held opinion,” Klaus insists, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of Ben’s hand - just an absentminded move, Ben’s sure, just Klaus’s inability to ever hold still, but it’s a very soothing motion. “Being essentially a walking Ouija board seems to leave behind a sort of ever-present ghostly chill.” 

“And I’m sure living on a steady diet of MDMA and malnutrition has _nothing_ to do with it,” Ben points out, half-expecting Klaus to be annoyed, but he just chuckles, giving Ben a halfhearted shrug and a self-effacing nod. Ben glances down, the sight of their hands touching still such a novelty that he has to periodically check to make sure it’s still really happening, has to see to believe. “You’ve always felt warm to me, though, actually. As far as I can recall, at least; it’s been a while, of course, but I do remember…”

“Yeah, well, you always did see the best in me,” Klaus says, and Ben’s sure he must be mistaken, because Klaus actually sounds a little bit choked up for a second.

“I'm sorry, are you…?” Ben tries to ask, but gets cut off mid-sentence when Klaus reaches out with his free hand to touch Ben’s face, guiding his chin up until they’re looking into each other’s eyes again.

“Believe it or not, Benji,” Klaus says, resting his hand on Ben’s cheek, “You feel pretty warm to me, too.” 

“Do I really?” Ben asks, reaching up and curling his fingers around Klaus’s hand, squeezing slightly, and Klaus nods, slowly, his eyes wide and honest. “Wow, that, uh, that doesn’t even seem like it should be possible, actually, seeing as I don't have any blood or skin or...” 

“I mean, shit, doesn’t _most_ of the stuff that happens to us seem pretty impossible?” Klaus laughs, shrugging. “How am I able to touch you at _all?_ How are you even _here_ right now?”

“That’s… pretty fair, actually, I have no idea.” 

“I don’t, either, but I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re still here,” Klaus murmurs, getting quieter as he speaks, the last part just barely above a whisper: “God, it really feels like you’re _here_.”

His thumb is brushing gently along Ben’s jawline; it’s such a soft, reverent touch, like he’s worried Ben might break. Steady gaze going a bit watery, Klaus suddenly leans even further forward, pressing his forehead to Ben’s as an excuse to squeeze his eyes shut, forcing the tears away before they have a chance to fully form. 

Being so near to things he can never touch has been a slow, subtle form of torture; Ben never fully realized that Klaus has been being tortured in the exact same way by Ben's intangibility.

“I’ll be honest, I’m, uh...” Klaus's voice gets all soft and low, like he’s about to tell Ben some big secret, because, well, he sort of is. “I’m kind of wondering if you’d slap me in the face again if I kissed you right now.” 

The muscles in Ben’s stomach clench, butterflies blooming in his gut as he realizes both what’s about to happen and how badly he wants it to.

“Really?” Ben asks, swallowing hard but coming back bold, “Is that because you’re worried about getting hit, or because you’re hoping for it? I’m sorry, you’re just so kinky, it's hard to tell sometimes.” 

“Oh, haha, very funny, but I wasn’t planning on kissing you on the _cheek,_ Benji, so you can stop giving me quite so much of it.” 

“I am just… _very_ tempted to tell you to make me.” 

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence?” Klaus grins. “I am _very_ tempted to do _precisely_ that.” 

Despite the banter leading up to it, the moment when Klaus takes the initiative to actually close the distance between them is full of so much tension that it makes the air in the room stand still - perfectly, _eerily_ still. 

In the litany of thoughts he’d never willing admit to having, Ben has always known Klaus to be an excellent kisser. He’s seen the deft, skilled way Klaus’s mouth moves against another, the way people look absolutely _awestruck_ as soon as Klaus pulls away. 

No amount of imagination even came _close_ to how it feels actually being on the receiving end of it, though, and this being one of the very first things he’s felt in almost twenty years? His head is absolutely spinning. Blindly, he finds Klaus’s shoulders and grabs onto the worn-soft cotton of his shirt, needing to keep a firm grip on something tangible to keep himself from just floating away into the overwhelming sensation of it all.

It’s all so soft, and so sweet, and so _honest;_ they’re silently telling each other so many things that Ben thought he knew to be true, but he was never quite sure. Klaus’s gentle, reverent touch has Ben feeling… _delicate_ , is the best word he can think of to describe it. He feels like he’s made of spun sugar, melting away on Klaus's tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> calling this a one-shot for now, but willing to continue if there's interest! leave a comment please!


End file.
